


Sound of Hysteria

by ibonekoen



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8683999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibonekoen/pseuds/ibonekoen
Summary: Peter has a bad feeling about Claire's little stunt at the Sullivan Bros. Carnival





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic but I've been going through my archive livejournal and decided I wanted to transfer some fics over here for safekeeping. Plus maybe they'll find a new audience.

Sylar frowned deeply as he hurried up the fourteen flights of stairs in Peter's apartment building. He was huffing and puffing a bit by the end -- seriously, the landlord couldn't have invested in an elevator? -- and he quickly moved over to Peter's apartment. "Peter, open up!" he yelled, banging his fist against the door. He stood in the hallway, trying to catch his breath, his mind still reeling from the events of the carnival. Defeating Samuel had been easier than he'd anticipated; Peter and he had worked quite well together, dividing their focus -- he'd concentrated on rescuing Peter's friend Emma while Peter had taken on Samuel -- but he'd been woefully unprepared for what had happened after Samuel had been carted away by Noah's men.

Sylar rapped his knuckles against Peter's door again, his brow knitting together. He could hear movement inside the apartment, knew Peter was there, and he hesitated before grasping the doorknob and giving it an experimental turn. His eyebrows lifted in surprise when it turned easily, and he cautiously swung the door open, peering inside the apartment. "Peter?"

The man in question was nowhere to be seen, and Sylar frowned as he pushed the door open further and stepped inside. He shut the door behind him, trying to ignore the prickling discomfort that wormed its way into his belly. He couldn't help but think about the last time he was in that apartment, and his eyes flicked to the center of the main room, where the table he'd gathered around with Angela and Peter had sat. He could still see the terror on Angela's face, the defiance on Peter's, and he swallowed heavily, the ghosts of his not-so-distant past threatening to crush him.

He tried to shake off the sense of foreboding, and turned his attention to the double doors that led to Peter's bedroom. Peter was in the almost barren room, shoving clothes into a duffle bag on his bed. Sylar frowned, cocking his head to the side, as he watched. "What are you doing?"

Peter jerked involuntarily, apparently startled by the sound of Sylar's voice, and he hissed out a curse that would have made a sailor blush. Sylar merely arched an eyebrow and gave him an expectant look, waiting for an answer to his question. Peter took a deep breath and exhaled through his teeth. "I'm...packing."

Sylar gave a slow blink, just staring at Peter with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. "Spontaneous vacation? You don't seem the type to just drop everything and head to Maui."

Peter snorted and shook his head. "I'm not going to Maui. I'm-" He cut off, brow furrowing. "I'm not sure where I'm going, but I'm not going to sit here and wait for the guys with guns and tranquilizer darts to come after me. I'm not waking up on a plane, shackled in a cargo hold again."

Sylar looked stunned, staring at Peter with widened eyes. "What? What are you talking about, Peter?"

The empath grumbled a bit and crossed over to a dresser, opening the topmost drawer and starting to pull out socks and underwear. He tossed them onto the bed behind him, shaking his head. "I forgot, you weren't there. You somehow managed to avoid the government agents Nathan sicced on his own people." He turned his back to Sylar, hoping the other man wouldn't see his face; he was scared and he hated that feeling. "My own brother tricked me. He came here, making an appeal to me to just go along with his plan and not fight him." He scoffed, his mouth curving into a sneer. "I never even saw it coming. One minute, I'm hugging my brother, the next, I've got jolts of electricity running through my body and I'm blacking out." His mouth formed a hard line as he stared at the far wall, his gaze vaguely unfocused as he remembered the events he was describing. "I woke up in the belly of a plane, shackled to a seat and being carted off to god only knows where with a bunch of my friends in matching orange jumpsuits and chains." He paused, swallowing heavily, and closed his eyes; this was the first time he'd really spoken about that incident with anyone. It was just something that was never discussed; something that he'd filed away and tucked into a hidden place deep inside, hoping to forget it.

Sylar frowned, unsure of what to say or do, but he hesitantly stepped forward, resting a hand on Peter's shoulder. "You don't know that will happen again. Nathan..." He let his voice trail off, not wanting to bring up more bad memories by mentioning that Peter's brother was gone. He gave Peter's shoulder a comforting squeeze instead.

Peter was quiet for a long moment, but at least he'd stopped shoving things into his duffle bag. He turned his head slightly, eyes cutting back over his shoulder and catching Sylar's gaze. "You don't know that it won't," he muttered softly. "With Claire throwing herself off that Ferris wheel, on national TV..." He trailed off, shaking his head and frowning, concern bubbling beneath his skin and dread welling up in the pit of his churning stomach. "No, we need to be prepared. If we keep moving, they can't get us. They can't-" He cut off, drawing in a startled breath as Sylar's arms suddenly wrapped tightly around his chest, and he felt himself tugged backwards until his back was against Sylar's chest. He started to fight it, not wanting to be coddled like a child afraid of his own shadow, but Sylar merely hugged him tighter, refusing to let go.

"I understand that I may not know exactly what you went through with the tasing and whatnot -- it sounds very traumatic, and I'm sorry -- but running isn't the answer," Sylar said quietly. "That was the government's response to us, to specials. The general populace might have a different reaction. We won't know for sure what the repercussions Claire's little stunt at the carnival will be; there hasn't been enough time. It just happened moments ago."

"That's exactly why we should run now!" Peter exclaimed, struggling against Sylar's embrace. "Get a head start before they come for us!"

Sylar frowned and shook his head, continuing to hold Peter tight despite the other man's attempts at flailing. "Paranoid conspiracy theorist doesn't become you, Peter," he said softly. "Whatever happens, I promise, I won't let anything happen to you." He sighed a bit, resting his chin on Peter's shoulder as he felt the other man's struggles weaken and then cease.

Peter closed his eyes, letting himself just focus on the warmth of Sylar's body against him, the circle of the other man's arms around him. He could feel Sylar's heartbeat against his back -- or maybe it was his own, thumping wildly with panic and drowning out any other sensation. He took a deep breath, trying to refocus himself, and he could feel his panic ebbing the longer Sylar held him. It was very odd, taking comfort in the closeness of his brother's killer, but they'd been through so much trapped in the nightmare world and afterward. Sylar had performed admirably at the carnival; Peter had expected him to give into temptation with so many specials around, to fall back into his old ways and hack his way through the gathered people, but Peter had been pleasantly surprised. Sylar had held himself in check, so maybe there was hope for him. If there was hope for Sylar, then maybe, just maybe... "There's hope for all of us," he muttered under his breath.

"What?" Sylar asked, frowning a bit. It felt a little like he hadn't caught all of what Peter said because the empath's words didn't make sense, but his train of thought was derailed by Peter suddenly relaxing into his embrace, sagging against him as if the strings of tension that had been holding him upright were suddenly and inexplicably severed.

"Nothing," Peter mumbled, his eyes still closed as he canted his head back, resting it against Sylar's broad shoulder. "I'll hold off on the frantic packing, okay? We'll do things your way, wait and see what happens." He was quiet a moment before sheepishly muttering, "Sorry I panicked."

Sylar chuckled and turned his head slightly, brushing his lips against Peter's cheekbone. "It's all right," he said softly. "What do you say we skip watching the news tonight and go out to dinner at your favorite Chinese restaurant instead? My treat."

Peter gave a soft snort that Sylar chose to interpret as a quiet laugh. "The apocalypse can wait for bean curds and shiitake mushrooms?"

"Exactly," Sylar said with a firm nod as he loosened his arms, letting them fall away from Peter as the other man straightened and turned to face him. Sylar gazed at the other man for a long moment and then smiled softly, reaching out to cup Peter's cheek. "Don't worry so much. You're too pretty to get wrinkles."

He let out an 'oof' as Peter's fist shot out, playfully socking him into the stomach.


End file.
